章节正文
sold practically everything they possessed--their
home, even their furniture. Their little sons, who
were away at school, were brought home, and
the family expenses were cut down to the barest
margin; but all these sacrifices paid only part of the
debts. My mother, finding that her early gift had
a market value, took in sewing. Father went to
work on a small salary, and both my parents saved
every penny they could lay aside, with the desperate
determination to pay their remaining debts. It was a
long struggle and a painful one, but they finally won
it. Before they had done so, however, and during their
bleakest days, their baby died, and my mother, like
her mother before her, paid the penalty of being
outside the fold of the Church of England. She,
too, was a Unitarian, and her baby, therefore, could
not be laid in any consecrated burial-ground in her
neighborhood. She had either to bury it in the
Potter's Field, with criminals, suicides, and paupers,
or to take it by stage-coach to Alnwick, twenty
miles away, and leave it in the little Unitarian church-
yard where, after her strenuous life, Nicolas Stott
now lay in peace. She made the dreary journey
alone, with the dear burden across her lap.
In 1846, my parents went to London. There
they did not linger long, for the big, indifferent city
had nothing to offer them. They moved to New-
castle-on-Tyne, and here I was born, on the four-
teenth day of February, in 1847. Three boys and
two girls had preceded me in the family circle, and
when I was two years old my younger sister came.
We were little better off in Newcastle than in
London, and now my father began to dream the
great dream of those days. He would go to America.
Surely, he felt, in that land of infinite promise all
would be well with him and his. He waited for the
final payment of his debts and for my younger
sister's birth. Then he bade us good-by and sailed
away to make an American home for us; and in
the spring of 1851 my mother followed him with her
six children, starting from Liverpool in a sailing-
vessel, the John Jacob Westervelt.
I was then little more than four years old, and the
first vivid memory I have is that of being on ship-
board and having a mighty wave roll over me. I was
lying on what seemed to be an enormous red box
under a hatchway, and the water poured from above,
almost drowning me. This was the beginning of a
storm which raged for days, and I still have of it a
confused memory, a sort of nightmare, in which
strange horrors figure, and which to this day haunts
me at intervals when I am on the sea. The thing
that stands out most strongly during that period is
the white face of my mother, ill in her berth. We
were with five hundred emigrants on the lowest
deck of the ship but one, and as the storm grew
wilder an unreasoning terror filled our fellow-pas-
sengers. Too ill to protect her helpless brood, my
mother saw us carried away from her for hours at a
time, on the crests of waves of panic that sometimes
approached her and sometimes receded, as they
swept through the black hole in which we found our-
selves when the hatches were nailed down. No mad-
house, I am sure, could throw more hideous pictures
on the screen of life than those which met our childish
eyes during the appalling three days of the storm.
Our one comfort was the knowledge that our mother
was not afraid. She was desperately ill, but when
we were able to reach her, to cling close to her for a
blessed interval, she was still the sure refuge she had
always been.
On the second day the masts went down, and on
the third day the disabled ship, which now had
sprung a leak and was rolling helplessly in the
trough of the sea, was rescued by another ship and
towed back to Queenstown, the nearest port. The
passengers, relieved of their anxieties, went from
their extreme of fear to an equal extreme of drunken
celebration. They laughed, sang, and danced, but
when we reached the shore many of them returned
to the homes they had left, declaring that they had
had enough of the ocean. We, however, remained
on the ship until she was repaired, and then sailed
on her again. We were too poor to return home;
indeed, we had no home to which we could return.
We were even too poor to live ashore. But we made
some penny excursions in the little boats that plied
back and forth, and to us children at least the weeks
of waiting were not without interest. Among other
places we visited Spike Island, where the convicts
were, and for hours we watched the dreary shuttle
of labor swing back and forth as the convicts car-
ried pails of water from one side of the island, only
to empty them into the sea at the other side. It
was merely ``busy work,'' to keep them occupied
at hard labor; but even then I must have felt some
dim sense of the irony of it, for I have remembered
it vividly all these years.
Our second voyage on the John Jacob Westervelt
was a very different experience from the first. By
day a glorious sun shone overhead; by night we had
the moon and stars, as well as the racing waves we
never wearied of watching. For some reason, prob-
ably because of my intenseadmiration for them,
which I showed with unmaidenly frankness, I be-
came the special pet of the sailors. They taught me
to sing their songs as they hauled on their ropes,
and I recall, as if I had learned it yesterday, one
pleasing ditty:
Haul on the bow-line,
Kitty is my darling,
Haul on the bow-line,
The bow-line--HAUL!
When I sang ``haul'' all the sailors pulled their
hardest, and I had an exhilarating sense of sharing
in their labors. As a return for my service of song
the men kept my little apron full of ship sugar--
very black stuff and probably very bad for me; but
I ate an astonishingamount of it during that voy-
age, and, so far as I remember, felt no ill effects.
The next thing I recall is being seriously scalded.
I was at the foot of a ladder up which a sailor was
carrying a great pot of hot coffee. He slipped, and
the boiling liquid poured down on me. I must
have had some bad days after that, for I was ter-
ribly burned, but they are mercifully vague. My
next vivid impression is of seeing land, which we
sighted at sunset, and I remember very distinctly
just how it looked. It has never looked the same
since. The western sky was a mass of crimson and
gold clouds, which took on the shapes of strange and
beautiful things. To me it seemed that we were
entering heaven. I remember also the doctors com-
ing on board to examine us, and I can still see a line
of big Irishmen standing very straight and holding
out their tongues for inspection. To a little girl
only four years old their huge, open mouths looked
appalling.
On landing a grievousdisappointment awaited
us; my father did not meet us. He was in New
Bedford, Massachusetts, nursing his grief and pre-
paring to return to England, for he had been told
that the John Jacob Westervelt had been lost at sea
with every soul on board. One of the missionaries
who met the ship took us under his wing and con-
ducted us to a little hotel, where we remained
until father had received his incredible news and
rushed to New York. He could hardly believe that
we were really restored to him; and even now,
through the mists of more than half a century, I can
still see the expression in his wet eyes as he picked
me up and tossed me into the air.
I can see, too, the toys he brought me--a little
saw and a hatchet, which became the dearest treas-
ures of my childish days. They were fatidical
gifts, that saw and hatchet; in the years ahead of
me I was to use tools as well as my brothers did,
as I proved when I helped to build our frontier
home.
We went to New Bedford with father, who had
found work there at his old trade; and here I laid
the foundations of my first childhood friendship,
not with another child, but with my next-door
neighbor, a ship-builder. Morning after morning
this man swung me on his big shoulder and took me
to his shipyard, where my hatchet and saw had vio-
lent exercise as I imitated the workers around me.
Discovering that my tiny petticoats were in my way,
my new friend had a little boy's suit made for me;
and thus emancipated, at this tender age, I worked
unwearyingly at his side all day long and day after
day. No doubt it was due to him that I did not
casually saw off a few of my toes and fingers. Cer-
tainly I smashed them often enough with blows of
my dull but active hatchet. I was very, very busy;
and I have always maintained that I began to earn
my share of the family's living at the age of five--
for in return for the delights of my society, which
seemed never to pall upon him, my new friend al-
lowed my brothers to carry home from the ship-
yard all the wood my mother could use.
We remained in New Bedford less than a year,
for in the spring of 1852 my father made another
change, taking his family to Lawrence, Massa-
chusetts, where we lived until 1859. The years in
Lawrence were interesting and formative ones. At
the tender age of nine and ten I became interested
in the Abolition movement. We were Unitarians,
and General Oliver and many of the prominent citi-
zens of Lawrence belonged to the Unitarian Church.
We knew Robert Shaw, who led the first negro regi-
ment, and Judge Storrow, one of the leading New
England judges of his time, as well as the Cabots
and George A. Walton, who was the author of
Walton's Arithmetic and head of the Lawrence
schools. Outbursts of war talk thrilled me, and
occasionally I had a little adventure of my own, as
when one day, in visiting our cellar, I heard a noise
in the coal-bin. I investigated and discovered a
negro woman concealed there. I had been reading
Uncle Tom's Cabin, as well as listening to the
home, even their furniture. Their little sons, who
were away at school, were brought home, and
the family expenses were cut down to the barest
margin; but all these sacrifices paid only part of the
debts. My mother, finding that her early gift had
a market value, took in sewing. Father went to
work on a small salary, and both my parents saved
every penny they could lay aside, with the desperate
determination to pay their remaining debts. It was a
long struggle and a painful one, but they finally won
it. Before they had done so, however, and during their
bleakest days, their baby died, and my mother, like
her mother before her, paid the penalty of being
outside the fold of the Church of England. She,
too, was a Unitarian, and her baby, therefore, could
not be laid in any consecrated burial-ground in her
neighborhood. She had either to bury it in the
Potter's Field, with criminals, suicides, and paupers,
or to take it by stage-coach to Alnwick, twenty
miles away, and leave it in the little Unitarian church-
yard where, after her strenuous life, Nicolas Stott
now lay in peace. She made the dreary journey
alone, with the dear burden across her lap.
In 1846, my parents went to London. There
they did not linger long, for the big, indifferent city
had nothing to offer them. They moved to New-
castle-on-Tyne, and here I was born, on the four-
teenth day of February, in 1847. Three boys and
two girls had preceded me in the family circle, and
when I was two years old my younger sister came.
We were little better off in Newcastle than in
London, and now my father began to dream the
great dream of those days. He would go to America.
Surely, he felt, in that land of infinite promise all
would be well with him and his. He waited for the
final payment of his debts and for my younger
sister's birth. Then he bade us good-by and sailed
away to make an American home for us; and in
the spring of 1851 my mother followed him with her
six children, starting from Liverpool in a sailing-
vessel, the John Jacob Westervelt.
I was then little more than four years old, and the
first vivid memory I have is that of being on ship-
board and having a mighty wave roll over me. I was
lying on what seemed to be an enormous red box
under a hatchway, and the water poured from above,
almost drowning me. This was the beginning of a
storm which raged for days, and I still have of it a
confused memory, a sort of nightmare, in which
strange horrors figure, and which to this day haunts
me at intervals when I am on the sea. The thing
that stands out most strongly during that period is
the white face of my mother, ill in her berth. We
were with five hundred emigrants on the lowest
deck of the ship but one, and as the storm grew
wilder an unreasoning terror filled our fellow-pas-
sengers. Too ill to protect her helpless brood, my
mother saw us carried away from her for hours at a
time, on the crests of waves of panic that sometimes
approached her and sometimes receded, as they
swept through the black hole in which we found our-
selves when the hatches were nailed down. No mad-
house, I am sure, could throw more hideous pictures
on the screen of life than those which met our childish
eyes during the appalling three days of the storm.
Our one comfort was the knowledge that our mother
was not afraid. She was desperately ill, but when
we were able to reach her, to cling close to her for a
blessed interval, she was still the sure refuge she had
always been.
On the second day the masts went down, and on
the third day the disabled ship, which now had
sprung a leak and was rolling helplessly in the
trough of the sea, was rescued by another ship and
towed back to Queenstown, the nearest port. The
passengers, relieved of their anxieties, went from
their extreme of fear to an equal extreme of drunken
celebration. They laughed, sang, and danced, but
when we reached the shore many of them returned
to the homes they had left, declaring that they had
had enough of the ocean. We, however, remained
on the ship until she was repaired, and then sailed
on her again. We were too poor to return home;
indeed, we had no home to which we could return.
We were even too poor to live ashore. But we made
some penny excursions in the little boats that plied
back and forth, and to us children at least the weeks
of waiting were not without interest. Among other
places we visited Spike Island, where the convicts
were, and for hours we watched the dreary shuttle
of labor swing back and forth as the convicts car-
ried pails of water from one side of the island, only
to empty them into the sea at the other side. It
was merely ``busy work,'' to keep them occupied
at hard labor; but even then I must have felt some
dim sense of the irony of it, for I have remembered
it vividly all these years.
Our second voyage on the John Jacob Westervelt
was a very different experience from the first. By
day a glorious sun shone overhead; by night we had
the moon and stars, as well as the racing waves we
never wearied of watching. For some reason, prob-
ably because of my intenseadmiration for them,
which I showed with unmaidenly frankness, I be-
came the special pet of the sailors. They taught me
to sing their songs as they hauled on their ropes,
and I recall, as if I had learned it yesterday, one
pleasing ditty:
Haul on the bow-line,
Kitty is my darling,
Haul on the bow-line,
The bow-line--HAUL!
When I sang ``haul'' all the sailors pulled their
hardest, and I had an exhilarating sense of sharing
in their labors. As a return for my service of song
the men kept my little apron full of ship sugar--
very black stuff and probably very bad for me; but
I ate an astonishingamount of it during that voy-
age, and, so far as I remember, felt no ill effects.
The next thing I recall is being seriously scalded.
I was at the foot of a ladder up which a sailor was
carrying a great pot of hot coffee. He slipped, and
the boiling liquid poured down on me. I must
have had some bad days after that, for I was ter-
ribly burned, but they are mercifully vague. My
next vivid impression is of seeing land, which we
sighted at sunset, and I remember very distinctly
just how it looked. It has never looked the same
since. The western sky was a mass of crimson and
gold clouds, which took on the shapes of strange and
beautiful things. To me it seemed that we were
entering heaven. I remember also the doctors com-
ing on board to examine us, and I can still see a line
of big Irishmen standing very straight and holding
out their tongues for inspection. To a little girl
only four years old their huge, open mouths looked
appalling.
On landing a grievousdisappointment awaited
us; my father did not meet us. He was in New
Bedford, Massachusetts, nursing his grief and pre-
paring to return to England, for he had been told
that the John Jacob Westervelt had been lost at sea
with every soul on board. One of the missionaries
who met the ship took us under his wing and con-
ducted us to a little hotel, where we remained
until father had received his incredible news and
rushed to New York. He could hardly believe that
we were really restored to him; and even now,
through the mists of more than half a century, I can
still see the expression in his wet eyes as he picked
me up and tossed me into the air.
I can see, too, the toys he brought me--a little
saw and a hatchet, which became the dearest treas-
ures of my childish days. They were fatidical
gifts, that saw and hatchet; in the years ahead of
me I was to use tools as well as my brothers did,
as I proved when I helped to build our frontier
home.
We went to New Bedford with father, who had
found work there at his old trade; and here I laid
the foundations of my first childhood friendship,
not with another child, but with my next-door
neighbor, a ship-builder. Morning after morning
this man swung me on his big shoulder and took me
to his shipyard, where my hatchet and saw had vio-
lent exercise as I imitated the workers around me.
Discovering that my tiny petticoats were in my way,
my new friend had a little boy's suit made for me;
and thus emancipated, at this tender age, I worked
unwearyingly at his side all day long and day after
day. No doubt it was due to him that I did not
casually saw off a few of my toes and fingers. Cer-
tainly I smashed them often enough with blows of
my dull but active hatchet. I was very, very busy;
and I have always maintained that I began to earn
my share of the family's living at the age of five--
for in return for the delights of my society, which
seemed never to pall upon him, my new friend al-
lowed my brothers to carry home from the ship-
yard all the wood my mother could use.
We remained in New Bedford less than a year,
for in the spring of 1852 my father made another
change, taking his family to Lawrence, Massa-
chusetts, where we lived until 1859. The years in
Lawrence were interesting and formative ones. At
the tender age of nine and ten I became interested
in the Abolition movement. We were Unitarians,
and General Oliver and many of the prominent citi-
zens of Lawrence belonged to the Unitarian Church.
We knew Robert Shaw, who led the first negro regi-
ment, and Judge Storrow, one of the leading New
England judges of his time, as well as the Cabots
and George A. Walton, who was the author of
Walton's Arithmetic and head of the Lawrence
schools. Outbursts of war talk thrilled me, and
occasionally I had a little adventure of my own, as
when one day, in visiting our cellar, I heard a noise
in the coal-bin. I investigated and discovered a
negro woman concealed there. I had been reading
Uncle Tom's Cabin, as well as listening to the
- therefore [´ðeəfɔ:]
ad.&conj.因此；所以 (初中英语单词) - linger [´liŋgə] v.逗留；留恋；拖延 (初中英语单词)
- circle [´sə:kəl] n.圆圈 v.环绕；盘旋 (初中英语单词)
- payment [´peimənt] n.支付；报酬；报偿 (初中英语单词)
- enormous [i´nɔ:məs] a.巨大地，很，极 (初中英语单词)
- beginning [bi´giniŋ] n.开始，开端；起源 (初中英语单词)
- strongly [´strɔŋli] ad.强烈地；强有力地 (初中英语单词)
- terror [´terə] n.恐怖；惊骇 (初中英语单词)
- helpless [´helpləs] a.无助的，无依靠的 (初中英语单词)
- screen [skri:n] n.银幕 vt.遮蔽 (初中英语单词)
- interval [´intəvəl] n.间隙；(工间)休息 (初中英语单词)
- refuge [´refju:dʒ] v.&n.避难(所)；庇护 (初中英语单词)
- extreme [ik´stri:m] a.尽头的 n.极端 (初中英语单词)
- ashore [ə´ʃɔ:] ad.向岸上 (初中英语单词)
- waiting [´weitiŋ] n.等候；伺候 (初中英语单词)
- voyage [´vɔi-idʒ] n.&vi.航海；航程；旅行 (初中英语单词)
- glorious [´glɔ:riəs] a.光荣的；辉煌的 (初中英语单词)
- overhead [´əuvə,hed] ad.当头 a.在头上的 (初中英语单词)
- admiration [,ædmə´reiʃən] n.赞赏，钦佩 (初中英语单词)
- yesterday [´jestədi] n.&ad.昨天；前不久 (初中英语单词)
- amount [ə´maunt] n.总数；数量 v.合计 (初中英语单词)
- seriously [´siəriəsli] ad.严肃；严重，重大 (初中英语单词)
- liquid [´likwid] n.液体 a.流动的 (初中英语单词)
- impression [im´preʃən] n.印刷；印象；效果 (初中英语单词)
- sunset [´sʌnset] n.日落；晚霞 (初中英语单词)
- western [´westən] a.西的；西方的 (初中英语单词)
- standing [´stændiŋ] n.持续 a.直立的 (初中英语单词)
- disappointment [,disə´pɔintmənt] n.失望；挫折 (初中英语单词)
- childish [´tʃaildiʃ] a.孩子的；幼稚的 (初中英语单词)
- childhood [´tʃaildhud] n.幼年(时代)；早期 (初中英语单词)
- movement [´mu:vmənt] n.活动；运动；动作 (初中英语单词)
- prominent [´prɔminənt] a.突起的；凸出的 (初中英语单词)
- cellar [´selə] n.地窑，地下室 (初中英语单词)
- finding [´faindiŋ] n.发现物；判断；结果 (高中英语单词)
- sewing [´səuiŋ] n.缝纫；(书的)装订 (高中英语单词)
- painful [´peinfəl] a.痛(苦)的；费力的 (高中英语单词)
- penalty [´penlti] n.刑罚；惩罚；障碍 (高中英语单词)
- dreary [´driəri] a.阴郁的；枯燥无味的 (高中英语单词)
- indifferent [in´difrənt] a.不关心的；中立的 (高中英语单词)
- infinite [´infinit] a.无限的，无穷的 (高中英语单词)
- mighty [´maiti] a.强有力的 ad.很 (高中英语单词)
- hideous [´hidiəs] a.丑陋的，可怕的 (高中英语单词)
- desperately [´despəritli] ad.绝望地；拼命地 (高中英语单词)
- intense [in´tens] a.强烈的；紧张的 (高中英语单词)
- learned [´lə:nid] a.有学问的，博学的 (高中英语单词)
- astonishing [əs´tɔniʃiŋ] a.令人惊讶的 (高中英语单词)
- ladder [´lædə] n.梯子；阶梯 (高中英语单词)
- seeing [si:iŋ] see的现在分词 n.视觉 (高中英语单词)
- crimson [´krimzən] a.&n.深(紫)红(的) (高中英语单词)
- inspection [in´spekʃən] n.检查；视察；参观 (高中英语单词)
- incredible [in´kredəbəl] a.不能相信的；惊人的 (高中英语单词)
- abolition [,æbə´liʃən] n.废除；废止 (高中英语单词)
- strenuous [´strenjuəs] a.费力的；奋发的 (英语四级单词)
- liverpool [´livəpu:l] n.利物浦 (英语四级单词)
- nightmare [´naitmeə] n.梦魇；恶梦 (英语四级单词)
- appalling [ə´pɔ:liŋ] a.令人震惊的 (英语四级单词)
- grievous [´gri:vəs] a.痛苦的；严重的 (英语四级单词)
- hatchet [´hætʃit] n.短柄小斧 (英语四级单词)
- arithmetic [ə´riθmətik] n.算术 (英语四级单词)
- helplessly [´helplisli] ad.无能为力地 (英语六级单词)
- vividly [´vividli] ad.活泼地；生动地 (英语六级单词)
- frankness [´fræŋknis] n.坦白，直率，真诚 (英语六级单词)
- landing [´lændiŋ] n.登陆；降落；楼梯平台 (英语六级单词)
- taking [´teikiŋ] a.迷人的 n.捕获物 (英语六级单词)
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章节正文
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